Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J.K. Rowling

J.K. Rowling
HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
masters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready
upon the desk once more. Dumbledore’s hands lay on either side of it, the
right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever. It did not seem to have
healed at all and Harry wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, what had
caused such a distinctive injury, but did not ask; Dumbledore had said that
he would know eventually and there was, in any case, another subject he
wanted to discuss. But before Harry could say anything about Snape and
Malfoy, Dumbledore spoke.
“I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?”
“Yes,” said Harry. “He’s not very happy with me.”
“No,” sighed Dumbledore. “He is not very happy with me either. We
must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on.”
Harry grinned.
“He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry’s doing
a wonderful job.”
Dumbledore smiled.
“It was Fudge’s idea originally, you know. During his last days in office,
when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting
with you, hoping that you would give him your support —”
“After everything Fudge did last year?” said Harry angrily. “After Umbridge?”
“I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when
he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour’s appointment we met and he
demanded that I arrange a meeting with you —”
“So that’s why you argued!” Harry blurted out. “It was in the Daily Prophet.”
“The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally,” said Dumbledore,
“if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that
Rufus found a way to corner you at last.”
“He accused me of being ‘Dumbledore’s man through and through.’”
“How very rude of him.”
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